


Pavlov's Moon

by Scarlet



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-11
Updated: 2008-03-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet/pseuds/Scarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Scully have been living apart, in different states, for six years, which doesn't mean they're still not part of each other's lives. Co-dependency's a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pavlov's Moon

**Author's Note:**

> TIMELINE: 6 years after The Truth.
> 
> This story was a pre-IWTB speculation, which makes it AU now, or obsolete, depending how you look at it.

5:00PM

I should have brought better shoes.

The brown slush covering the pavement is soaking through the thin leather of my black boots.

So where am I this time? Ah, yes – Wolfboro, New Hampshire – in March.

What was I thinking?

Well, I wasn't.

So there you go.

Or to quote Bill as he drove me to the airport yesterday:

"So, that's it? Every time he whistles you go running?"

Every time.

"How long is this gonna last, Dana? It's been six years!"

My brother slams his palms on the steering wheel. His abrupt manners remind me of Melissa. Charlie and I always were the quiet ones.

Six years? Has it been that long? I guess it has.

"Why do you always have to go? Why doesn't he come back here and marry you or something, if you really can't stay away from each other?"

Now that, I can partly answer. I stop playing with my watch and remove my sunglasses to look at him.

"Bill, the last time he tried to come down here, he was shot at barely 2 hours after he arrived. You know that."

Now would be a golden opportunity for a scathing remark, but age has mellowed my dear brother, it seems.

"I don't get it. If people are still trying to kill him, why aren't they following him?"

"I think they just don't want him down here. Maybe he's not a threat if he stays far enough away."

"Because of these labs?"

"Because of these labs."

"You realize they’re just pharmaceutical plants, don't you?"

I start rummaging in my bag. The edge of the plane ticket brushing against my fingers makes my heart skip a beat.

"Bill they're sprouting up like mushrooms all over. Ten in the past three months in the San Diego suburbs alone."

"You're paranoid."

I lower the sun visor to apply some lipstick Tara gave me. The shade is lighter than what I usually use but it'll do.

"It's part of my job description."

"*Was* part of your job description. You're a doctor now."

"I always was a doctor."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes. I do."

"It was your choice."

I snap the visor back up.

"I had no choice, Bill."

"There were other doctors, you know. You could have left."

"She's my mother."

"But you made her feel responsible."

Christ, are we back to this now?

"This is bullshit. I don't blame her, Bill. I never did. She was seriously ill and I couldn't leave. There was no blame to assign here."

"Oh, sure, because you're just fine about all this. And you have such a big smile on your face these days."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm happy?"

"No. I already know the answer to that one."

"I'm doing the best I can, Bill."

My brother lets one of his hands leave the steering wheel to briefly squeeze my knee.

"I know, Dana. I'm sorry. Look - I'm not trying to - I mean, I can't imagine what it would be like if Tara and I have had to..."

"Bill. Stop."

"Listen, there are people you could talk to about this..."

"Yes there are. Now, you either stop talking or I'm getting a cab."

I slip my sunglasses back on and turn my head towards the window as I hear Bill mutter: "That sorry son of a bitch doesn't count."

Actually, he's the only thing that still does.

***  
5:15PM

I'm sure the salt is going to leave white marks on them once they dry.

They're ruined.

That's too bad.

I loved these boots.

I can't seem to hold on to anything I love these days.

Come on, Dana, don't start. They're just boots.

He's going to be here soon. You don't want him to see you sniveling over a pair of shoes, don't you? Remember who you are.

Dr. Scully.

Not Agent Scully.

Agent Scully, the abductee, Agent Scully, the terminal cancer patient, Agent Scully, the unfit mother... Agent Scully is long dead.

Long live Dr. Scully.

Dr. Scully works in San Diego, in the same hospital where her mother is a patient - in the oncology ward. Dr. Scully is respected by her peers, feared by her interns and surrounded by the love of her family: her brother, her sister-in-law and her clever, adorable, 10 year old nephew who worships her.

Dr. Scully lives in a beautiful, bright house that her brother found for her. It overlooks the sea.

"Bill, this is way too big for me!" I'd protested when he'd taken me for a tour.

"Can't you afford it?"

"Well, yes, I can, but..."

"Then buy plants."

And so I did.

I bought lots and lots of plants.

I went to the City Garden Nursery and bought every indoor species I could lay my hands on.

I bought Dragon Trees and Yuccas. Rubber Plants and Devil Ivy. Footstool palm, crocodile ferns, Philodendrons and Peace Lilies.

I bought everything.

Everything except orchids. 

Victor Klemper had put me off those for good.

The sound of a car turning onto onto main street interrupts my thoughts.

A rusty green pick up truck appears round the bend and parks by the chipped mail box, mere feet away from my own rented Subaru.

The driver's door opens with a grease-starved creak.

Mulder steps out of the car, in jeans, down jacket and hiking boots and I brace myself for that now familiar sucker-punch feeling.

"Scully." His smile is huge.

"Mulder." And I'm fairly certain mine is too.

His open arms pull at me like a science fair magnet.

I fall into his embrace, curiously conscious of how cold my feet are as I tuck my head under his chin.

"It's been too long, Scully."

"You say that every time."

"Because it's true."

I lift my head to look at him.

"I’m not sure about the beard, Mulder."

He chuckles. "Neither am I."

I raise one hand to test that facial hair of his with inquisitive fingertips.

It is rather soft and uneven.

He looks way more the vagrant part now than he ever did when he was hunting for the Jersey Devil.

Mulder gets my attention by pulling at my hips with both hands.

"Kiss me, Scully."

I lift a playful eyebrow.

"Hmmm...I'm not sure. I have a reputation to uphold."

His hands slide to my ass under my - thankfully long - coat. One more sharp pull.

"Kiss me, Scully."

I think I just forgot I owned feet.

I take his head with both hands and kiss him with everything I’ve got - the whirlwind of want and lust and months of loneliness blows me about in a funnel spiked with emotions I was certain I’d lost.

The human spirit is nothing if not resilient.

Mulder breaks the kiss after, well, I'd say 9 minutes, because it always is.

"Scully?"

I catch my breath and lower my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. Such a passionate display of affection out in public is hardly my style.

Not that there’s currently much public about.

But still, it probably explains the pleased incredulity in Mulder's voice as he runs a tender thumb across my jaw and states:

"You missed me."

I blow a strand of hair away from my eyes.

“Mulder, why am I here?”

He smiles and stroke my shoulders briefly before letting go.

“Get in your car and follow me. There’s something I want to show you.”

***  
6:45PM

I follow him deep within the countryside, through red covered bridges and along sprawling fields full of deep, blue-tinted snow, until we reach the edge of a forest and an old whitewashed wooden house with a brown roof.

I kill the engine, step out of the car, and stop briefly to admire the view. The house sits at the edge of a small frozen pond within a dip too shallow to be called a valley. The snow hushes the world around me and for a minute there I can hear nothing but the pounding of that abused thing in my chest – I’m not sure what to call it these days.

“Come on Scully, you’ve got to see this!”

Mulder is gesturing me to follow him round the back of the house.

“Where are we going?” I ask, struggling to get some grip on he icy path.

“Not very far.”

“I should hope so.”

“Believe me. It’s worth it, Scully.”

“Forgive me, if after nearly 10 years spent working with you, I am in no way reassured by this.”

“Have a little faith. Come on.”

He takes my arm in his and we walk a few yards until we reach an old barn, as a powdery pink dusk settles over the white trees.

My faith is in short supply these days, Mulder, but I’ll humor you.

Mulder removes a padlock keeping the tall weather-worn wooden doors shut. The first thing I see when I enter the place - besides bales of straw and farm tools - is a yellow forklift supporting a big block of ice.

“Please, tell me you didn’t make me come all this way for a giant ice cube.”

“Come closer.”

I do what he asks and squints at the murky frozen depth.

“Oh my God, Mulder - ”

Mulder steps behind me and shakes me by the shoulders with glee.

“Ice cube surprise, Scully!”

“What is this, a bear?”

Mulder shakes his head, eyes twinkling with an excitement that sends me back to our first cases together.

“Look.”

I follow his finger. Inside the ice, I spot what appears to be a limb.

A limb covered in dark brown fur.

A limb with five toes.

I burst into laughter.

“Mulder! You found Bigfoot.”

“I know!” He shoots me a kid-at-Christmas grin.

I tap at my lips with a finger. “You do realize, it’s got to be a hoax.”

He sobers up, “I hope not, because if these toes are real, then we’re dealing with a murder case, which would be nowhere near as fun”

“Where did you find it?”

“Down by the pond, two days ago.”

“How long will it take to thaw?”

Mulder scratches his chin. “If we let it be, several days. I was thinking of lighting a fire, but we’ll need to keep an eye on it.”

He brushes my shoulder as he begins to head out of the barn.

“Anyway, we’ll see about that later. Let’s get you inside. You look colder than him right now.”

"I'm fine."

"That old chestnut's still working for you, Scully?"

I glare,"all right, I'm cold."

I get a teasing grin and an open hand, "come on, then.”

I wait for him to lock the barn door and we make our way back to the house.

After scraping our feet on the front porch to remove the snow, I follow Mulder into what - judging by the modest size of the building - must be the main room.

I can’t hold back a grin.

Oh, Mulder. This place is so you.

Files, maps, books and countless stacks of papers occupy nearly every surface of the living room.

“Here, take these.”

My former partner grabs a pair of thick grey socks from a laundry basket and hands them to me.

“Thanks.” I push a couple of encyclopedias away and sit on the couch.

“Bad choice of shoes, Scully,” Mulder comments while removing his jacket.

I remove my boots and frown at them resentfully before letting them drop on the wooden floor.

“I see that now.”

“This ain’t California.”

“So I gathered.”

Mulder sits by my side and starts removing his own boots. Proper boots. Hiking boots.

Why am I suddenly obsessed with footwear?

Dr. Scully whispers the word “avoidance” in my head.

“So...how’s your mother?” Mulder asks while struggling with a tricky knot in his laces.

“She’s better. It’s not perfect but she’s better than she’s been.”

“Did you try...”

“That treatment we talked about last time? No, we didn’t. There were just too many potential side effects. I didn’t want to run the risk of weakening her further.”

I reach for the encyclopedia by my side and set it on my knees.

“There’s another therapy we’re testing that’s looking quite promising.”

Mulder kicks his shoes off and leans back on the couch, shifting on his side to face me.

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”

“We’ll see.”

A short awkward silence stretches between us. I open the book on my lap, flipping the pages without really looking at them.

“How’s Bill?” Mulder asks.

I smirk. “He sends his love.”

It would seem I’m not the only one doing the avoiding here.

“You gave him a lobotomy for his birthday?”

“I should have. He made me buy a house.”

“Did he? Has it got a moat?”

I nod. “With crocodiles, yes.”

Mulder grins at me and stretches one hand to play with a loose strand of my now long hair.

“Wise man.”

Still holding the book against me like a shield, my tension eases and I lean back into Mulder’s ready arms.

“Actually, it’s a very nice house.”

“Is it?”

With my hands resting flat over the book’s cover, Mulder lets each one of his fingers slide in the gap between each of mine and begins a slow back and forth caress against the soft webbing of my hand, triggering little tendrils of need coursing all the way to the base of my spine.

“It’s by the sea.” My voice has gone low and I’m sure he’s noticed.

“I wish I could come and visit.” His lips are against my neck.

“I wish you could come and stay.”

Mulder pries the book away from my fingers and drops it to the floor. I turn in his arms to stare at him. He lifts a hand to stroke my cheek and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes.

“One day, I will.”

I have no sarcasm left in me, but must have made a sound in the back of my throat nevertheless.

“It won’t always be like that, Scully. One day, they will give up,”

Of course they will. In 2012, when it’s too late.

Mulder, Mulder, my beautiful liar.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else I want to say.

We’ve had this conversation many times over the years. Sometimes it ends well, like today. And sometimes not.

Over 6 years. We’ve done it all. The shouting and finger pointing, the threats and promises. The storming out in the rain, – ‘this time this is it!’ – the broken china and the angry sex.

Long Distance Relationship 101. You name it, we’ve tested it.

There’s a critical, rational part of me that truly wishes we could stay apart from each other long enough to tame that wild thing between us and build new lives.

But we can’t.

I feel his breath on my lips.

So I kiss him again. I kiss him with the same abandon I displayed earlier in that snowed under, isolated little town.

Mulder stands, pulling me up with him. My legs wrap around his waist and my ankles lock against his back. He takes me to his bed while his mouth crushes mine and my soul bruises all over again.

And we make love.

Because it’s me.

Because it’s him.

And because it’s always been a madness shared by two.

***

EPILOGUE – THE NEXT DAY.  
9PM.

“Well, I’ve got some good news for you, Mulder.”

I stop my exam of the creature’s foot now partly sticking out of the ice and remove my latex gloves with a snap.

“It’s definitely not made of wax or fake fur.”

“I knew it.” Mulder takes a peek under the forklift, “I wish it weren’t all curled up on itself like that, I really want to see its head.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

Mulder catches me by the waist and I laugh.

“Dance with me, Scully, today is a good day for us misunderstood Bigfoot Hunters.”

He twirls me around for a few steps, and I’m still laughing and for one tiny moment, our lives are perfect.

He gathers me back in his arms and rests his chin on top of my head as we both stare at the ice block.

"Scully? Did I just see his toe move?"

"No, Mulder, you did not."

"These are some mean looking toenails," he points out.

I nod and turn my head towards the fire burning in the tin manger Mulder has recycled into a barbecue.

“So I gather you’re taking the first shift tonight?” I ask him.

“I am.”

“Promise me you won’t stay up all night.”

“I have every intention to come and wake you up at some point,” he breathes against my ear.

I swat his wandering hands and step out of his arms with a chuckle.

Mulder lifts his eyes to the hayloft high up near the gambrel roof.

“In the meantime, I’ll have the full moon to keep me company.”

He goes to add more coal to the fire.

I leave the barn.

I hear him whistle “Blue Moon” as I make my way back to the house.

I’m wearing snow boots now.

I breathe in the quiet cold air and smile under the moonlight.

Today is a good day.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS:  
> to Marzipan for all these American words I knew nothing about and for finding out when the sun sets in NH – and to Bluesformoon, always my fearless Adverb Hunter. You ladies rock mightily.


End file.
